


Forgiveness Must Be Earned

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Eros Affair, Jossed, M/M, Sex Toys, pre-HBP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-03-24
Updated: 2005-03-24
Packaged: 2017-10-08 19:54:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/78970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's difficult to apologize when you're a boy named Harry Potter. It's especially difficult when you're not sure what you did wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forgiveness Must Be Earned

**Author's Note:**

> Written pre-_Half-Blood Prince_ for the [](http:)Eros Affair.

Grindelwald, Harry observed the week Binns finally started teaching World War Two, looked like some sort of Nazi Malfoy.

This, it turned out, was the absolute wrong thing to say, as shortly after he made this observation Draco proceeded to not only throw Harry out of his bed and secret hideaway, but out of his life altogether.

It was Hermione who finally explained _why_ Draco was acting like such a git. Evidently Grindelwald _was_ part Malfoy—the dark wizard's mother had been Draco's great-great-grandmother's cousin. Harry supposed he could sympathize, especially since Pureblood inbreeding had evidently laden him with enough villainous ancestors, courtesy of his father. It was rather distressing, he found, to learn at age seventeen that the evil bastard that tried to kill you when you were a baby was your own distant cousin.

The next plan of action was to find a way to apologize.

Pleading and expressing ignorance got Draco to speak to him again. However, no matter how much Harry begged, Draco still refused to let him fuck him again. This, of course, was an intolerable condition. Dirtier tactics were required in these most desperate of times.

In short, bribery.

(Well, originally Harry had thought to hold one of Draco's most treasured possessions for ransom, but when Dobby had failed to succeed in stealing the other boy's big black magically vibrating dildo for him, Harry had decided that perhaps blackmail was not a crime one ought to commit in order to get one's boyfriend back. And bribery sounded much more fun.)

The bribe, in this case, had been provided by Ginny. Dean, in a fit of good humour, had purchased a book of something called 'sex cheques' to give to his girlfriend and luckily there were still quite a few of them to spare. Harry had spent an hour flipping through the book, gradually eliminating suggestions. There was, of course, no question of being filmed during sex—no camcorder would withstand the Hogwarts anti-electronics field. Similarly, cooking Draco supper was also right out—Harry could indeed cook, no thanks to the Dursleys, but he had a feeling that the house elves would resent his intrusion into their domain. And as for inviting his best friend… well, Harry could just imagine the twin screams of revulsion from trying to involve Ron in all of this.

Harry was almost to the end of the book before he found the cheque he needed: _I promise to suck you and fuck you at the same time. _

He slipped it to Draco during Potions the very next day.

When Draco chose to reply, which would be an entire week later, his reply was scrawled on the back of the cheque: _Meet me at eleven p.m. in the usual spot. The new password is: 'Weasel sucks rancid goat balls.' Be punctual. ~ D. _

Harry arrived in Draco's secret hideaway at five minutes to eleven. The smaller boy was sitting on the mattress, naked as the day as he was born, and Harry made to sit down next to him.

"Stay where you are," said Draco in a dangerous voice, looking up at Harry.

Harry didn't move.

Draco took a deep breath then. Harry wondered if he was going to scream at him. But he didn't scream; instead, he asked, "Notice anything?"

Harry stared at Draco. He wasn't quite sure what he was supposed to notice. He'd seen Draco naked dozens of times—what was different this time than all the others? "I… I don't understand."

"_Look_ at me," Draco hissed. "Look at me, you Gryffindor fool. No, not there," he added quickly. "Look _down_."

And then Harry's eyes chose to rest on Draco's prick, jutting out from the sparse clump of fluffy pale hair. "You're cut," he said suddenly and it wasn't as if he hadn't known that before, but he'd never really thought much on it. It was odd, but he'd seen other boys with cut pricks like Draco's, if not many.

"Yes," Draco answered curtly. "I don't suppose you might have any notion why?"

Harry swallowed. "Um…"

Draco favoured him with a Look. "You know, I do know who the Nazis were. Just because I'm a Pureblood, doesn't mean I'm ignorant. And even if it did, there would be no excuse for me not knowing about _that_."

And then, suddenly, it all made sense. "Fuck," Harry said, his cheeks turning bright red. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. I didn't think of that. God, Draco, I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry. God."

Draco sighed then and the fury seemed to drain from him. "Well," he said, "it's not as though I go around telling people. And most of the other Malfoys and Blacks aren't—I just get it from Mother's mother."

"Right," said Harry. He swallowed. "I really am sorry, though. Hermione told me what a prat I'd been saying that." And he hadn't known the half of it. It was odd, Harry thought. Hermione hated the fact that he was sleeping with Draco and yet she still had helped straighten him out. Perhaps she just liked explaining people to him.

"I rather thought she would," Draco said wryly. "If there's anything she's good for, it's that."

"Well," said Harry, taking a deep breath, "do you want me to go, then?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Of course not, you great git. Or did you forget your promise already?" He indicated the pile of robes lying in the corner of the room with a lordly gesture. "The oil and my toy are over there," he informed Harry. "I trust you know what to do with them?"

Digging through the pile of clothing, Harry wondered, as he always did, just _where_ exactly Draco had bought his dildo—Harry certainly hadn't seen anything like it in Diagon Alley! But then, perhaps, wizards were much the same as Muggles about some things and Knockturn Alley had to sell _something_ besides flesh-eating slug repellent and hands of glory.

It didn't matter, really, he decided, oiling his fingers and sliding them into Draco; wiggling them around. The thing that mattered was that Draco was letting him touch him again. Being sexually frustrated, Harry had discovered, was not fun in the least.

Draco make a sort of squeaking sound as Harry's fingers probed deep. "Oh yes," he sighed, "right—there. Yes. Oh yes. Put it in, Harry. _Now_."

"I'm hurrying, I'm hurrying," Harry muttered, splashing a good deal more of the oil onto the mock cock and working it with his fingers, making sure the thing was as slick as humanly possible. Then, slowly and with a great deal of care, he began the long slow process of working it into Draco's arse.

Draco's answer to that wasn't quite comprehensible—none of the sounds he made were: breathless whimpers, keening little whines, and long, low moans. Harry found himself grinding against the edge of the mattress as he worked his way in and he was more than a little bit breathless himself when the thing was in as far as it would go, only the last short inch left. "_Infigo_," Harry whispered, tapping it with his wand and his breath caught in his throat as the black cock started thrusting into the other boy.

Draco was keening now, hips pumping as the dildo pounded in him, and Harry wasted no time swallowing the head of his pretty red cock—his fingers roaming up and down the length of it underneath his mouth, stroking and caressing his balls. He wasn't Draco—he couldn't suck a cock into the back of his throat with a single slurp—but he knew what Draco liked and he knew how to make him come screaming and yowling. There were spots to rub with his fingers, to press his tongue against—right underneath the head and near the root—and Harry worked these, worked them hard and worked them long and sucked as if his life depended on it and maybe it did. Draco depended on it and he'd become a big enough section of Harry's life in and of himself.

He sucked and he licked and he stroked and he rubbed and he bobbed his head up and down and Draco was coming suddenly, his hands twisted in Harry's hair and howling. Harry sucked him down as fast as he could, he'd learned that nicety months ago, and when he pulled back Draco grabbed onto his robes and kissed him, one of those long soul kisses of his, where Harry was never sure whose tongue was in whose mouth. Draco's hands were tugging on his robes ineffectually and Harry broke the kiss long enough to shimmy out of his robes and drawers, naked as the day he was born, naked as Draco.

"Take that thing out of me, damn it," Draco hissed. He was hard again, and his erection rubbed against Harry's stomach in an altogether distracting way. "I want _you_."

"Forgiven?" Harry asked, pulling the other boy into his lap with one arm while rubbing himself slick with the hand of the other. It was, of course, the main point of this whole exercise.

"Not unless you take me _right this second_," Draco snarled and he lifted his arse, positioning it just against Harry's cock.

Harry had little choice but to oblige him.

**Author's Note:**

> ... in retrospect, while Jewish(kindasorta)!Draco isn't the most unlikely conceit I ever used to write H/D, it's probably up there with them. But hey, I'm pretty sure we didn't have the Black Family Tree when I wrote this, so having Narcissa Black's mum be some random Pureblood Jewish witch wasn't as big of a stretch as it would be now. Or something. I dunno. My head was in a weird place five years ago.
> 
> Basically, this fic mostly exists for Draco's big black vibrating dildo. And because I signed up for it in the Eros Affair. _(4/10/10)_


End file.
